


100

by masterwords



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: 100, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29174169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Just a drabble.  I almost didn't bother with A03, just posted to Tumblr, but I just think about this one tiny little scene so often that I felt like...it needed to be highlighted?  The subtlety, the purity.  It's beautiful  Every time I see “100″, or just the gif of Hotch and Morgan, I’m struck by the fact that Morgan is so forceful at first (yelling, shouting, making him stop) and then he’s so gentle (oh my gosh, he's so damn gentle that it almost looks like he's hugging Garcia).  The way his hands move over Hotch, trying to find a place to settle, from his arms to his chest to his shoulder, a way to convey that he’s there and he’s trying to comfort in the best way he can...it’s so moving.  And then it makes me want to gush over their poorly conveyed friendship because it could have been anyone who pulled him off and held him afterward, but it was Morgan.  AND HOTCH LET HIM.  (As in lovelovelove as I may be with Hotch, this little drabble is for Morgan and him alone.  To show my undying appreciation for him, as a character, and how very BIG he truly was.)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	100

**Author's Note:**

> Just a drabble. I almost didn't bother with A03, just posted to Tumblr, but I just think about this one tiny little scene so often that I felt like...it needed to be highlighted? The subtlety, the purity. It's beautiful Every time I see “100″, or just the gif of Hotch and Morgan, I’m struck by the fact that Morgan is so forceful at first (yelling, shouting, making him stop) and then he’s so gentle (oh my gosh, he's so damn gentle that it almost looks like he's hugging Garcia). The way his hands move over Hotch, trying to find a place to settle, from his arms to his chest to his shoulder, a way to convey that he’s there and he’s trying to comfort in the best way he can...it’s so moving. And then it makes me want to gush over their poorly conveyed friendship because it could have been anyone who pulled him off and held him afterward, but it was Morgan. AND HOTCH LET HIM. (As in lovelovelove as I may be with Hotch, this little drabble is for Morgan and him alone. To show my undying appreciation for him, as a character, and how very BIG he truly was.)

_Morgan didn't know where to put his hands_. Didn't know whether to hold on or let go. Hotch didn't do this, didn't cry, didn't fall apart in front of people. But here he was, with bloody hands and broken knuckles, sobbing over the body of a killer who no longer resembled a human being. Sobbing because nearby was the body of his dead ex-wife, the woman he still loved and would forever. His highschool sweetheart. Everything smelled metallic and wet, the carpet was soaked, uniforms swarmed the room, in and out around them. People stared, gagged when they saw what was left of Foyet's face, gave Hotch a wide berth, afraid now of what he was capable of. 

_Morgan didn't know where to put his hands_ , because he was not just holding Hotch back, he was holding him together. The man who didn't lose control, who didn't lose his composure. The man who was always a rock for everyone around him, at great personal cost. He would stay late at work, until everyone left, just to make sure no one needed him for something. He answered his phone at all hours, he showed up early, he bought lunch or donuts or coffee when he knew they were running themselves ragged, wearing thin. Paying so much attention to everyone else around him, because he knew what it was like to be overlooked, to be at your breaking point without a soul to lean on. He knew what it felt like to be pushed away, to be abandoned. 

_Morgan didn't know where to put his hands_ , because they weren't really friends, not like this. Hotch didn't hug, wasn't affectionate, always kept his distance. He always fell to the back of a crowd, unless they were heading into danger, and then he would be two steps ahead, ready to take whatever was coming first. He was never in the mix, side by side. He didn’t go out to drinks, he didn’t dance, he didn’t do movies or dinners or weekends away. There was great respect, and trust, but not friendship, not like that. He would die for Hotch, but they didn't hug. Still, he saw Hotch there, pumping his fists into the dead man on the floor, picking up the lifeless body and slamming it down, and though he dropped to his knees to pull him back, he held on tight in the aftermath. He yelled at first, but then he whispered, he put his face next to the other man's and gently eased him back. It was instinctual, and Hotch didn't fight him. Didn’t push him away. Morgan thought maybe they were friends after all and he’d just misinterpreted what Hotch’s friendship looked like. Maybe just allowing himself to surrender was the way he showed it. The way he allowed himself to be vulnerable, even for just a split second. Prentiss and Rossi watched, they watched and they could have been the ones, they should have been the ones, but Hotch surrendered to him and him only. So he held on, and Hotch leaned in. He exhaled. He cried. 

_Morgan didn't know where to put his hands_ but he did his best. He'd wrapped his arms around Hotch, and just let him cry. He held him close, hands trying to find a place to rest that said comfort, not restriction, not anger or reprimand. He let Hotch know that he was there and wouldn't leave him. _He didn't know where to put his hands_ , but it didn't matter. That wasn't the important part. He was there when he was needed, and it was enough.


End file.
